Rules
by Small Bombs
Summary: Some are meant to be broken. Most aren't. AmaAnge, Oneshot, rated T for some cursing.


_Please excuse the generic title. Also, thanks to one of my friends in LJ for kindly proof reading this fic and helping with the characterization of certain characters._

_Note: This story was written and published before episode 6 was translated.  
_

_Enjoy (Beware for possible spoilers)  
_

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'Never get involved with your client.'

That was the most important of the many unspoken rules that were imposed on a bodyguard.

It was basic knowledge. Bodyguards were supposed to be a shield of human meat, ready to stand in the way of anything to protect their employer. Going beyond that could cost them even their lives (as if they weren't in enough danger already) and so, anyone who broke the rule would be considered very brave... or just plain stupid.

Amakusa Juuza thought that, if following such a rule was a sign of intelligence, he'd rather be a fool.

He wasn't even a bodyguard in the strict sense of the word: He was more of a mercenary slash army man slash bodyguard slash delivery boy... oh, the list was too long for him to care anymore, and each title had its own set of tedious rules, too. Who cared anyway, as long as he did his job?

Unfortunately for him, most of his bosses didn't think the same, and he'd get severely scolded every time he stepped out of line; something that happened more often than not, especially if his client was a woman.

Now, he didn't go around bedding every female client of age like some sort of horny dog, but he couldn't help but flirt with them a little if he thought they were attractive enough. A few mysterious smiles and gallant words would escape him, and they would either blush or pretend to be angry, winking when no one was looking— They all had a limit though. Before he knew it, they'd be pushing him against the mattress, nowhere left to run.

Not that he ever tried to.

God knew how many jobs he had lost due to that little issue, and he was well aware that if it weren't for his natural talent with guns and exceptional military career, people wouldn't even consider him to babysit a puppy.

Amakusa just shrugged when his superiors asked for explanations.

"If they can't control themselves then why should I?"

No one could really counter that. And it didn't get any better when his own 'victims' would come forward to defend him, leaving his bosses nothing to argue with. Thankfully that was enough to wipe those ugly negative remarks off his imaginary curriculum, at least temporarily.

Not off his superiors' minds though.

So, after a while of working with male clients to stay out of trouble, he was surprised when Okonogi called him in the middle of his break in Japan, asking him to _take care_ of a certain 18-year-old young girl.

It had been objected to, OH, _it had._ However, Okonogi brushed off all the complaints, offering his colleagues a reassuring smile.

"There's no chance in hell that _this_ girl would fall for that troublesome man."

Amakusa still remembered Ushiromiya Ange. The last time he saw her she was this gloomy little lady that reminded him of a small dog with her pigtails and bad attitude; traits that just made her cuter in his eyes. He only met her a few times before getting kicked out by the fickle Eva, since apparently, treating the poor kid like a human being was one of the many rules not to be broken.

The pigtails were still there.

Everything else had changed though.

Far away from the motionless girl he remembered, what he received was a wild, unpredictable young woman that limped slightly: Falling on a car after jumping off a third floor could do that to you.

"...Amakusa? Why are you here?"

And holding back the urge to laugh at that warm welcome, he helped her into his own car, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

It had been a while since he felt so eager to start a mission.

Ange was still quiet and reserved as ever, though, black eyes scanning him suspiciously the first few days. It was only natural: He was the man that had been hired as her guard without her consent, by her aunt's right hand no less— he'd be wary, too. And so, there was nothing left to do but patiently wait for her to warm up to him, throwing little jokes that would either make her smile or frown deeply, never failing to answer with a sarcastic remark in the end.

Time passed quickly, and after six dead snipers and one wrecked car, her attitude towards him changed. She wouldn't frown so hard anymore, rolling her eyes instead, and she would even throw a few jabs at him sometimes, with that awkward grin of hers brightening up that expressionless face.

Something wasn't quite right, though.

Because, even after he had already casually complimented her in his own 'special' way many times, her smiles, though scarce, were sincere, and so were her eyes whenever she talked to him: none of them carried a secret message, an invitation to something more or a simple "keep going".

Amakusa was puzzled.

Maybe Ange was so dense in that department that she hadn't even caught his hints, or maybe he was getting too used to always receiving some sort of feedback from his 'targets'. Whatever the reason, Amakusa's interest grew to the point that he caught himself making an _effort_ to get her attention more than doing it out of habit, something he couldn't remember doing since...

... huh.

_Since when?_

Ange's looks didn't make the situation any easier. Her pronounced curves and her long, thigh-high clad legs made a team that would always attract stares from the men around her, him included. But the little lady was always too busy to even care, and she would just ignore them... him included.

Fortunately, one of the many benefits of being her 'bodyguard' was that he had plenty of chances to touch her tempting body to release a bit of that pent up lust. Whenever they were in the middle of a chase he'd let his fingers taste the milky, soft skin of her thighs as he held the little lady close to 'protect' her, and Ange would just bear with it, as she believed, naively, that he couldn't concentrate on where he was putting his hands while shooting behind them at the same time.

Of course Amakusa would never tell her that he was _completely_ aware of where his hands were going, especially after that time they went right up her skirt.

However, all those little things were starting to set off alarms in his head— He never looked for physical contact like that before. It would usually go the other way around: His clients would flirt with him, tracing random patterns on his shirt with their fingers or pushing him jokingly, and he would just laugh and let them do their thing; he'd get his turn to touch them as he pleased later that night, after all.

He eventually started to notice that it wasn't a sexual thing anymore, though. He'd be satisfied as long as he could get her to look at him instead of that stupid book of hers, feeling like some sort of attention-seeking diva begging for her fans' praises.

This was _not _Amakusa Juuza.

"Ange-san."

She was reading again, and only stopped to look at him when he plopped down on the seat in front of her with a resigned look in his face.

"What? Are Kasumi's men here?"

"Ah, no, that's not it." He scratched his head and hesitated for a second before relaxing on the couch, smiling nonchalantly. "Ange-san, do you think I'm an expensive guard?"

"Ridiculously expensive." She answered so bluntly that Amakusa couldn't help but snicker. "They say you're worth it, though."

"Oh, I am." Ange rolled her eyes as usual. "But what if I told you that there's something else you can pay me with besides money?"

"What...?" Now that was... weird. Ange had anything but money problems, so she couldn't imagine why Amakusa would bring that up at all. "What do you mean?"

"Let's trade."

"Trade?" She repeated. The conversation was getting weirder and weirder. "I don't have anything left besides this book, though."

"No, no. What I want is something a bit different. It's very simple, actually: I won't charge you anything for my services... if you give me a kiss."

Watching her reaction was far more entertaining than he thought it would be: Starting with raised eyebrows, as if she were questioning what she had just heard, tilting her head slightly. Her lips opened— but closed almost immediately, and then she leaned forward to finally...

... Sniff.

"Are you drunk?"

Amakusa just couldn't contain himself and laughed loudly. There really was no way to get bored with Ange.

"Hey, hey, lady, no matter how low your opinion of me is, you know I never drink at work." A raised eyebrow. "Unless I'm asked to." She rolled her eyes "That's not the point. I'm serious about this—" She opened her mouth again. "NO, I'm not high either. Geez, Ange-san."

"I see." Ange relaxed her shoulders, sighing heavily. "So this is what Okonogi was talking about."

O... Okonogi?

Oh, that son of a...

"So you talked to him, huh...?" She answered with a nod, quickly glancing at the phone near them. Ah, this wasn't looking good. This wasn't looking good at all. "I can tell you a bunch of bad stuff about him, too."

"No thanks, I have enough with what he told me about you. I'm not interested in being another name in your achievements list, Amakusa."

"Achiev...? Hey, now. Of course it sounds bad if you put it that way..."

"Did you do Eva?"

"_Hell no._" He blurted out, making her laugh as he grimaced involuntarily. "Thank you for the terrifying mental images."

"Well, it was a possibility... And I'm sorry to say this, but I'll have to turn down your trade." Ange opened her book again, and Amakusa sighed. He wasn't really expecting a different answer. "Also, for your information, most girls wouldn't consider offering money for a kiss to be flattering, no matter how much it i..."

"Ah, but you've got it backwards, Ange-san. I'm selling _myself_ for _your_ kiss."

And he flashed that wolfish smile of his, the one she knew so well— For some reason, though, this time it felt like her heart had skipped a beat, and she understood, in that very brief moment, why so many women had fallen for him.

"... No." She muttered, lowering her eyes as if afraid of him reading her thoughts. "And I'll double your pay if you never ask me that again."

Ow. That hurt a lot more than he thought it would.

"I'll let you cut my pay by half if you give me more chances."

"... Amakusa..."

"Fine, fine, you win." He dropped the subject and let Ange go back to her reading.

Well, you couldn't blame him for trying, could you?

... He wasn't about to give up just yet, though. If the straightforward, honest way didn't work, then he'd just have to get what he wanted stealthily, and, lucky him, stealth was his specialty.

It didn't take too long to find his chance: A few days later he was sitting beside her on another sofa, grinning, fingers tangling themselves in her red hair as she slept peacefully. He didn't know what was going on inside his head anymore— He didn't know why was he even trying so hard when in the past, whenever a woman wouldn't care for him, he'd just let her be. Men who insisted beyond that point were pathetic and weak: What kind of loser would let a woman have such control over him, anyway?

_'... Ha ha, oh, how life turns out to be sometimes'_, he thought, carefully placing his forearms by the sides of her head for leverage, leaning forward until their foreheads were almost touching. Ange kept sleeping soundly: The last few days had been especially tough, and she was exhausted from their last chase. She didn't even flinch when he removed a lock of hair from her face with his hand, or when he playfully blew on her half-open lips.

"Guess I'm as pathetic and weak as I can get, huh?" He mumbled. "Bear with me for a bit, Ange..."

She only responded with a sigh when he pressed his lips against hers.

They conveniently moved to fit his own, and as he inhaled deeply that subtle scent coming from her neck, the thought that that might've been her first kiss sent shivers down his spine and he pressed harder, angling his face to avoid her small nose. He still couldn't tell, though— Did he want to touch her more? Sure. Sleep with her? Always. But that was only natural: He was a man. And even if he was sure he wasn't _in love_ with her, there was something there that went beyond lust. The question was _what was it_.

"Ahem."

"...!"

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit.

Amakusa somehow managed to rise to his feet and turn around without making much of a fuss, only to find Toya Hachijo looking extremely amused, like a mother that had just caught her son with his hand in the cookie jar. She waited patiently for him to regain his composure and chuckled when he hung his head, defeated.

"I guess you caught me, huh..."

"Hm? Caught you?" She repeated, looking to the ceiling innocently. "Doing what?"

Her lips curved in a mischievous smile that he imitated soon enough, scratching his head.

"Thanks. I'm pretty sure she'll fire me without even paying me if she finds out about this." She smiled graciously.

"That's quite alright. I can keep this little crush of yours a secret if that's what you wish."

"... Crush?"

_Crush..._

"Oh— oh..."

It was... a _crush._

"Are you alright?" He didn't notice her mocking tone, though, nor the indifference behind those words. "I hardly doubt I'm wrong; In fact, I'm usually right when it comes to these things. Don't tell me you didn't notice?"

She looked at him with the arrogant eyes of a know-it-all, and he smirked sheepishly. He couldn't argue back.

How could he have not...?

Bringing a hand to his face, Amakusa felt the need to laugh out loud, yell at himself for being so hopelessly dense, but kept quiet to not wake Ange. He felt like a fool for not figuring it out any sooner: It was such a simple, innocent answer that he never realized...

A crush. That feeling that was so different from love, lust or raw passion... he had a crush on Ange.

What was he, ten years old? And hell, if he thought about it, he had been acting like a ten year old since he started traveling with his little lady: He had gone from throwing her small bits of paper to even pulling her pigtails once so she would pay attention to what he was saying. Ange had actually cracked some jokes about him having to try much harder if he wanted to bully her like her classmates did back in school.

"Ah... hahaha... I'm an idiot..." He mumbled, and she raised her chin like an empress.

"Fufu. No need to beat yourself up for it, child of men: People are usually so busy exploring the most complicated options that they completely overlook the ones that are right beneath their nose." She tilted her head, then, smiling. "You look troubled, though. I thought that this kind of feeling would make your job easier... Don't we try harder to protect those who we love?"

... Protect. Right.

"Aaah, miss. You have no idea how much harder my job just got."

She didn't question him, following him with her eyes as he sat once again by Ange's side, staring blankly at his hands, the remains of that incredulous smile twisting his lips in a bitter grimace. _'What a fun piece', _was the first thought that crossed her mind, evilly delighted by the internal conflict that was stirring inside him, and she silently walked away, leaving him to his thoughts.

_I wonder... what the hell am I supposed to do with you now, Ange-san?_

With gentleness that was uncommon in him, he cleared her face from all that red hair, rough fingers tracing the delicate lines of her features as if to memorize them. And when she slowly started waking up from that touch, he looked up, grinning pathetically.

_Can someone tell me... What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

Who could've known that that stupid bodyguard rule could also be applied to assassins and their targets?


End file.
